


Four Ginger People

by LizaCameron



Series: Seven Days Series [11]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff and Humor, Holiday, Liza's Josh/Donna Seven Days Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-17
Updated: 2005-02-17
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: 4th installment in the Seven Days One Winter series, Josh and Donna head to Wisconsin on Christmas Eve.





	Four Ginger People

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Four Ginger People**

**by:** Liza C.

 **Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Series:** Seven Days  
**Sub-series:** Seven Days One Winter  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Josh and Donna; this is for fun and no money.  
**Summary:** 4th installment in the Seven Days One Winter series, Josh & Donna head to Wisconsin on Christmas Eve.  Follows Three Candles Burning.  
**Spoiler:** none  
**Author's Note:**

Seven Days One Winter:

1.  One Holiday Plan  
2.  Two Paper Snowflakes  
3.  Three Candles Burning  
4.  Four Ginger People

"It's 4 a.m."

"I know, Josh."

"Why are we up so early?"

"So we can catch a 7am flight."

"And why are we doing that again?"  He's whining.  I don't always love it when he whines, but this particular morning I find it incredibly endearing. It may be the way his hair is standing completely on end, or it may be the way he's rubbing his eyes like he's six years old. 

"Because it's Christmas Eve and we are flying to Wisconsin today in order to spend the holiday with my family, remember?"

"Yeah, but that was before… last night."  He just wagged my eyebrows and… yup, he's smirking at me.  If he can do that, then he's awake enough to travel.

"Last night didn't change anything."  Yesterday was the 23rd of December.  My last day working as Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff.  As of 5pm Josh was no longer going to be my boss (sort of) and I was no longer going to be his assistant (definitely.)  Of course, Josh was completely unable to wait for 5pm so that we could… you know.  He fired me at noon.  Drove like a bat out of hell to get us back to his place and then proceeded to make love to me until we passed out at about 4pm.  Thankfully, it was a slow pre-holiday day with a light work load and no one missed us… at least I don't think they did.

We had to be up and presentable by 7pm so that we could meet our friends for a happy hour celebrating my new job.  By 9:30pm, Josh was dragging me out of there and back to his place where we picked up with the bathtub scenario we'd been putting off since Thanksgiving weekend, and then continued the "activities" through the night.  Thankfully, I anticipated such an occurrence and packed bags for Wisconsin for both of us, the night before.  I also sent a UPS package with all the gifts a week ago.

Now it is indeed 4am on Christmas Eve and neither of us really has slept a wink since our short nap yesterday afternoon.  I'm utterly exhausted, slightly stiff, and sore; but without a doubt, I've never felt better in my life.

"But we're really good at what we did last night.  Don't you want to be able to do that constantly over the next four days?"

"Josh…"  I lean over and press my lips to his forehead.  "That sounds lovely, but frankly, it's impossible… I need time to recover… no matter where we are.  You wore me out.  Might as well recover in Wisconsin where my family is expecting us."

And don't worry.  They are expecting us.  The day Josh left for Japan, I got a call from my mother.  That was a fun conversation.  Actually, she was fine.  But the family grapevine had done its job, because she obviously knew that I was planning on bringing Josh home for Christmas and was fishing for me to tell her.  So I did.  She was annoyed that I told my siblings and I didn't tell her and Dad.  I guess I can't blame her, but I was a little scared to do so.

Now let me make it clear that I wasn't afraid of my parents disapproving of Josh for any reasons other than the fact that he was my boss.  I guess I assume they'll have the same hang-ups I had about me sleeping with my boss.  Besides, this is the boss who makes a fuss when I want time off to go home and visit my family in Wisconsin.   The boss who's worked me late and on weekends, a lot, over the last few years.  I was worried that my parents wouldn't be able to separate that guy from my new boyfriend, Josh. 

But after my mom got over the fact that I hadn't told her about Josh and me, she really seemed to be excited about the prospect of us coming.  So that's good, right? However, even though I wouldn't trade last night for anything, I kind of wish that Josh and I weren't going to be sleep-deprived and bleary-eyed when he meets my family.  I guess that's the price I pay for insisting that I couldn't sleep with my boss.  We had a lot of time to make up for last night.

I feel arms wrap around me from behind. I lean back slightly as he presses his cheek flush against mine and whispers in my ear, "If things get crazy over the next few days, I just want you to know how honored I am that you want to take me home to meet your family.  It means everything to me."

I turn around in his arms, unable to keep a cheesy grin off my face.  "You wish we were staying here, in bed, ordering Chinese for the next four days."

He smirks before taking my hand and lacing it with his.  "This is true, but I'm still honored."

This makes me kiss him.  Which leads to other stuff, which makes us miss our planned transportation to Reagan.  Josh is not as disappointed by this as he should be.  And he's not as happy as he should be when the problem is easily solved by calling a taxi. 

***

We're at baggage claim and Donna has just finished hugging her mother and introducing me, which wasn't as painful as I had feared it would be.  She gave me a quick hug and welcomed me to Madison.  There were no nasty looks or veiled comments.  Perhaps Donna did a better job than I thought at making sure her mother knew it was not my fault that she didn't make it home for Thanksgiving this year… or numerous other times.  But she doesn't seem to be holding that against me, so I take a moment to study her. Marjorie Moss is about Donna's height, but with light brown hair and eyes. Other than that, you can definitely tell they are mother and daughter.

"So Josh, are you ready for Christmas in Wisconsin?"  She smiles kindly at me. Donna has her smile.  I suddenly find that very comforting.  Donna's genuinely nice, so the woman who gave her that smile must also be genuinely nice.  Or at least that's what I'm choosing to believe, in order to calm my nerves, until she proves me wrong.  Besides, how mean can someone be who's sporting a red sweater with reindeer on it?

"Yes, I'm very excited to be here."  That was a lie.  I'm terrified, I'm exhausted, and all I really want to do is go somewhere where I can make love to her baby daughter. Excited to be here doesn't enter into any of those emotions. "Thank you very much for having me." Now that was genuine.

"I know it can be overwhelming… being with a bunch of strange people you don't know.  So if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."  She pats my arm.

"Where's Daddy?"  Donna asks looking around. "I thought he was coming with you to pick us up?"

"Oh…his mother wanted to go see her friend in-"

"That would be my grandmother?"  Donna interjects with a laugh.

"Yes, I suppose it would. Anyway, her friend, you remember Mabel Fitzgerald?  She's in the hospital over in Sun Prairie, bad hip.  We thought it was best to get that visit out of the way this morning before you got here.  So he took her, they should be back by lunch.  Anyway, I had someone else to keep me company on the ride to the airport."

"Who?"  Donna knits her eyebrows together in confusion.  I have a feeling we're both too tired for games.

Marjorie points off to the side, and we both look to find a surprise waving to us from just ten feet away.

"Mom!"  I'm too stunned to even move.  My mother is here.  In an airport in Madison, Wisconsin. What the…

"Judith!"  Donna jumps up and down, drops her bag, and then runs over and hugs her.  Apparently, she's less shocked than I am, because she's actually able to move.  I haven't moved yet.

"How?  Why? What are you doing… how did you get…" I stumble over the words, still unable to move.

"Donna, you are lovelier than the last time I saw you," she says as she steps back and gets a good look at Donna.  "And Josh, dear, pick your jaw up from the floor and come give your mother a hug." 

"But?"  I shake my head.  "How?"  As I speak, my feet finally receive the orders from my brain to walk. 

"It's nice to see you, too, dear."

"It's wonderful to see you, Mom,” I whisper as I squeeze her tighter.  Several seconds later, I let go and ask again, "But seriously… how?"

"I was invited."  Judith smiles over at Marjorie.

"I called and invited her."  Marjorie looks pleased with herself.   "Actually…"  She shoots a reproving look at Donna. "Since I knew you were planning on bringing Josh home with you for a full week before you actually told me, I figured one of the reasons you hadn't told us was that you were worried about our reactions.  So I thought Josh would be more comfortable if he had family here, too.  Besides, this is a time for family." 

My breath catches in my throat and I feel something calming wash over me, a familiar feeling of home that can only be accounted for by the presence of my own mother. 

"Thank you," I whisper and before I know what's happening, I'm hugging Donna's mother. Again.  And I'm the one who instigated it.  This was not foreseeable, me initiating a hug with anyone who is not Donna or my mother, but I suddenly can't help myself. Because it's now readily apparent to me where Donna gets her thoughtfulness from.

"You’re welcome."  She pats my back and when I let go, I see Donna biting her lip and blinking rapidly. Uh oh, can't look at her.  If I do, I might follow her lead and get emotional.

So instead I turn back to my mother and ask incredulously, "You were already planning on coming here… when we called during Chanukah to tell you we were together?"

My mother giggles. Seventy-year-old Judith Lyman is actually giggling. "Yes."

"You were a good actress,” Donna says thoughtfully and then turns to her own mother. "As were you.  I had no idea…"

"Oh, good.  I was afraid Nikki was going to spill the beans."

"Nikki knew! She told you I was bringing Josh, but then she didn't tell me-"

"Actually…" Marjorie interrupts her. "Your cousin Carrie told her mother and Aunt Connie told me.  Nikki just verified it."

"How did you even get the number?"  Donna still sounds as flabbergasted as I feel.

"Is her number a secret?"

"No-o…" Donna stutters.

"I called information.  Only one Judith Lyman was listed in Boca.  Now let's get out of this madhouse and go home."  Her mother picks up one of the bags and heads for the terminal door.  We all quickly follow after her. With my mom here, this strange holiday in a strange place might not turn out to be so strange after all…

***

I give Donna a lot of crap about either being from a farm or growing up in a condo.  Apparently, they did live in a condo until Donna was about seven.  But then John Moss' company took off and they bought this house.  It looks like a very nice place to grow up.  As we enter, the door to my right is obviously the dining room with an open door to the kitchen, and to my left is the living room.  It's quite large with extremely high ceilings and an elaborate staircase that crosses the room and leads to a balcony on the second floor.

And the whole place is decorated to the nines. It's as if the North Pole exploded in the living room, but in a very elegant and homey way. There are bows and wreaths on every door and window, and Santas and snowmen are displayed strategically in all corners of the room.  But the centerpiece of it all is set in the slight curve of the staircase.

"It's fake!"  Donna exclaims after we drop the luggage in the middle of the room and come to stand in front of their monstrosity of a Christmas tree.  The sucker must be a mile tall if it's an inch.  I must admit it's pretty impressive.

"Donna, honey, we decided it was too much trouble to get a tree that large, so we invested in this very nice, very expensive artifi-"

"It's fake!  We always had real trees, always.  I told Josh how it was a tradition when we'd go pick out the tree and we always had to look for the perfect Frasier fir…"

"Well, this is a replica of a fir…"

I see Donna scowl.  She's really upset by this…. she's incredibly sexy when she's upset about a fake Christmas tree.  I wonder if anyone would notice if we slipped away to one of the bedrooms?  Probably.  Just as well, I'm far too tired to do anything but pass out once we got there…

"A replica!  He's going to think I was lying about the trips to the Christmas tree lot…"

"I'm just thinking I got yanked around a freezing Christmas tree lot for an hour, when I could have been in a warm store, picking out a perfectly good plastic…"  I shut up when I see the glare Donna is shooting me.  Even if I'm not capable of doing anything in the bedroom right now, I'm smart enough to know that I will once we've both had some sleep, and I’m going to need her to be in the same mood I am.

"But don't you like how it's sixteen feet tall?  Even since we moved to this house, you always wanted us to get a huge tree to go with the Cathedral ceilings."  Marjorie gestures to the ceiling.  It certainly does go with the Cathedral ceiling.  "Besides, I've never been excited about cutting down a big beautiful tree just to stick the top of it in my living room for a month until it dies."

"Hmph."  That was Donna. I think this attitude might be my fault.  I wore her out and now she's cranky. "Since when did you become an environmentalist?" Yup, she's cranky.

"Since always," her mother replies a tad tersely.

"Well, Marjorie, I think it's enchanting.  I have to admit I've always found something very magical about a Christmas tree," my mom adds, obviously trying to diffuse the argument.  I should probably help, too.

"Magical right up until one bites you," I interject and several pairs of eyes stop and look at me. I hold out my hand to demonstrate. "They can be sharp… with the needles and the pokey pinecone thingies."

"That's one of the benefits of the fake tree, Josh, and thank you, Judith.  I assure you that my daughter is not usually this hard to please.  I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea and think she's a spoiled brat."

I snort and Donna hits me on the arm. Hard. "Ow."

My mom shakes her head with a laugh. "Marjorie, please, I know what an angel you raised.  She'd have to be to put up with Joshua."  My own mother is selling me out, to impress Donna's mother.  Traitor!

"I'm not sure about that.  She can be a handful-"

"I'm standing right here," Donna asserts. Loudly.

"So am I," I add in order to show solidarity with Donna.

"Then stop being so missish in front of Josh's mother."  Marjorie gives Donna a motherly glare.

Donna takes a deep breath and smiles. "I'm sorry.  It's a beautiful tree, Mom.  The house looks wonderful, as always."

"That's better."  Marjorie pats her arm.  "Now.  Why don't we get your bags up to your old room and then you kids can come decorate the gingerbread people that Judith and I got up early to bake." 

Kids?  Nobody has called me a kid in, well… I guess it's only been a week since the ancient senior Republican Senator from Tennessee called me one.  But he did it to be condescending.   If I didn't have such a one-track mind, I'd be pondering the fact that I'm expected to decorate gingerbread men.  Because I have no idea what that entails.  But right now I'm more focused on the sleeping arrangements.  Will we be sharing a room? Different rooms?  Or will they put me in the garage? Nah, since they invited my mom, they probably won't stick me in the garage. 

Donna and I pick up her bags and follow her mom up the stairs.  It's a little hard to cart the luggage and not bump into the elaborate garland that adorns the banister.  I know I'm going to accidentally knock some prized heirloom off of something before this visit is over.  But I'd prefer if didn't happen until I've been here at least an hour.

"You two are in here."  She motions to a room at the top of the stairs. I'm anxious to see what a teenage Donna's room looked like.  But when I enter, I'm disappointed.  Apparently, Marjorie has redecorated, because it looks like any regular old guest room.  Which actually might be for the best.  Perhaps since it no longer looks like her teenage bedroom, Donna won't feel guilty about doing… stuff… once we're rested and, you know, ready to go again.

 "And Josh, your mother is right next door in Nikki's old room."

Oh… great.  Donna and I get to share a room… but also a wall with my mother.  That should be convenient and conducive to a lot of nothing.

***

"Merry Christmas! Anyone home!"  A voice calls out from the living room.

"In the kitchen," my mom calls back.  But I'd recognize that voice anywhere, and in a flash, am out of my seat and hugging my sister as soon as she enters the room.   

When we part, she takes a good look at me.  "You're beautiful, but skinny.  I remember when I used to be this skinny."  Her eyes shift to Josh, who I can tell is fidgeting behind me.  "And you must be Josh."

Josh holds out his hand to shake hers.  "And you must be Donna's sister Nikki."  But my sister, true to her nature, ignores his outstretched hand and gives him a bear hug.  I see Josh's eyes go wide in surprise, but I also see the corners of his mouth quirk upwards.  My sister looks a lot like me, except with brown hair like my mom and a definite "soccer mom" air about her. 

As they part, Josh notices the two girls who have attached themselves to my hips.  As I hug them both, Josh smiles and looks back to Nikki. "Are these the artists that sent me Chanukah presents?" 

"They are." Nikki smiles as she points to her daughters. "Shana, age 8, what grade?"

"Second!"  Shana squeals proudly.

"And that's Kelly, age six, and she's in…?"

"Kindergarten," Kelly replies dutifully.

"Girls, this is Aunt Donna's… boyfriend, Josh.  Remember when we learned about Chanukah and then made him those special stars?"

Josh leans down towards them.  "Well, thank you very much for the presents.  They sure meant a lot to me.  We hung them on Aunt Donna's tree in very special places.  Didn't we, Aunt Donna?"  Josh looks back up me.

"We did…"  My voice dies out as both Shana and Kelly fling themselves from me onto Josh, each of them hugging him tightly, knocking him on his butt.

I smile broadly at the surprised look on his face as he's sprawled on the kitchen floor with two giggling girls on top of him.

Nikki laughs at the scene.  "That means 'you’re welcome' in our family."

I'm about to introduce them to Josh's mom when it becomes apparent that Nikki and the girls are already fast friends with Judith, having gone with my mom to pick her up from the airport last night.

"We're ready to decorate gingerbread people," my sister announces as she shrugs off her coat.

"Good."  My mom sighs with relief.  "Because Josh and Donna are not very focused on their work." 

"Is her highness coming?" Nikki asks with a sarcastic tone.

"Don't say things like that," my mom reprimands her.  Good, I don't want to be the only one who gets to be called a brat. I guess I just wanted Josh to see the perfect Moss Christmas celebration, and that included a real tree.  But I suppose I shouldn't let myself get worked up about the details.  It's just… I wanted it to be perfect, so he'd understand why all of this is important to me.

I glance down to where the girls and Josh are working at untangling themselves on the floor, but address Judith.  "My sister isn't a huge fan of our sister-in-law."

"She's a control freak," Nikki confides in hushed tones.  "They probably won't come over this afternoon, because she doesn't allow the kids to eat sugar.  At all.  They also aren't allowed to watch TV or pretty much be out of their mother's sight. I swear, those kids are going to rebel one day and it is not going to be pretty."

"Amber is perfectly nice, but she does have her own idea about how to do things."  I confide to Judith, who nods with understanding. 

"But tonight they're having dinner with her family and then they have their program at church… so if they don't stop by this afternoon, I don't know if we'll really get to see them before dinner tomorrow."  My mom sighs.  I know she would love to have all her grandchildren over decorating gingerbread people.  But as long as she's not bugging me for grandchildren, I'm not going to get involved. 

"Would you look at those dimples!?"  We all turn and see Grandma Moss and my dad come in the kitchen door.  Josh scrambles to his feet and to my mortification, my grandmother walks right up to him and pinches his cheek.  Thank goodness it's a cheek on his face.  Seriously, with my grandmother, you never know.  "Marjorie, did you see the boy's dimples.  No wonder Donna couldn’t keep her hands off her boss."

If blushing furiously were an Olympic sport, I would win a gold medal right now.  My only solace is that Josh is equally as red as I am.  I can see my sister and Judith both biting back laughs as my mother shakes her head with a smidge of annoyance at her mother-in-law. 

My dad had made a beeline for me as soon as he entered the room.  I'm still attached to his hip after our hug when he steps in and saves the moment. "Mother, leave the poor man alone.  You'll scare him away."  Without letting go of me, he steps forward and offers Josh his hand.   "Josh, John Moss. I'm glad you could be with us this year."  But I feel him grip me even tighter as he says it.

However, I see Josh visibly relax, which is the important thing to me. "Thank you sir, it's nice to be here.  Thanks for having me."

"Our pleasure."  My dad motions to Grandma. "My mother."

I can tell Josh is wary after the earlier cheek-pinching, but he smiles gamely at her.  "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. M-"

"Call me Grandma.  Anyone with dimples like that can call me Grandma." 

"How's Mabel?"  Nikki asks, redirecting Grandma's attention.

"Oh, the old goat will be good as new as soon as they put a pin in the hip.  I told her it would be no big deal.  But where's my big shot granddaughter, all the way from Washington?"

"Here, Grandma." I raise my hand and my dad finally releases me.

"There she is."  Before I know what hit me, Grandma is crushing me to her, then she pulls back and shakes me slightly. "Nothing but a bag a bones you are. Hmm… I need to set to work fattening you up.  Marjorie, out of my way, we're having my world-famous soup for lunch."

Everyone starts bustling around and Josh sidles up to me. "What's her world famous soup?"

I close my eyes. "Beer… now resist the urge to make fun… cheese soup."

I see him smirk and a thousand cheese jokes run through his head, but all he says is, "Sounds delicious."

***

"So what are your gingerbread people's names?"  I ask the girls as I try and finish mine, which is an homage to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.  White pantsuit.  Gold necklace.  Donna likes John Travolta.  The girls and I are at the dining room table decorating, Donna's father had to go into his office for an hour, and the women are all in the kitchen watching soup being made and chatting.

"Ginger Aunt Donna… ginger Uncle-" 

"Huh?"  That gets my attention.  I look up from ginger Travolta.

"See…"  Shana points to the first one.  "This is you. Ginger Uncle Josh."  I don't know whether to be incredibly touched or extremely offended. Touched because Donna's little nieces would actually create a ginger person in my likeness in the first place, or offended because ginger Josh has bright red curly hair and is wearing a green polka dotted tie.  He resembles a performing circus clown much more than a distinguished politician.

"I see. That's very good." But I choke a little as I say it. "Who's this?"

"That's ginger Aunt Donna."  Ginger Donna has yellow hair and is wearing a red dress.  How did they know I love Donna in a red dress?

"Excellent work."  I nod approvingly. "Now, who are these two mini-ginger people?"  I point at the last two.

"Your family."  Shana looks up innocently at me and suddenly I'm having trouble breathing.

"My family?"

Donna picks this moment to walk up behind us.  She puts her hand on my shoulder and peers over at the table.  "What's going on?"

"I'm showing Josh the ginger family I made.  See, here's ginger Uncle Josh-"

"Nice job, that looks just like him, especially the hair…"  Donna interjects and I can hear the humor in her voice.  She's going to get it later.

"Here's you… ginger Aunt Donna."

"Hmm… I like that dress. Can I borrow it?"  That was Nikki, because now she, Marjorie and my mother have all come over to see what's going on.  Thankfully Grandma is apparently still hovering over the stove.

"And these are your ginger children!"  Shana announces triumphantly, pointing at the two mini-ginger people-- one little ginger girl with long red hair and one ginger boy with curly yellow hair.

"Cody and Bailey," Kelly adds from the corner.  Apparently, they've not only given us children, they've also named them, too.

I hear Nikki whisper, "Those are the names of our neighbor's cocker spaniels.  She loves them."

Shana nods. "Good!  Ginger cousin Cody and ginger cousin Bailey."

I think I might hyperventilate.  This was all fun and games when I was just decorating a cookie in the likeness of a 70's disco icon, now it has seemingly morphed into a life-altering activity. Kids!  Donna and I haven't even discussed marriage.  And while I know I want to marry her, I hadn't really thought about what that meant in terms of having… a whole family of little people… who will look like us.

Nikki, who is clearly enjoying this, eggs her daughter on by pointing to me.  "So this is Josh?"  The two girls nod. "But that's ginger Uncle Josh?"  Again they nod.  "How come that's not just ginger Josh?"  

"Because the ginger people have children.  So that means they have to be married.  So if they're married, that means Josh would be our uncle," Shana finishes matter-of-factly. Then she looks inquiringly at her mom. "Right?"

I hear Nikki snort, then mutter, "I wish they could stay this innocent forever."

Marjorie responds for her.  "Yes, that's right, honey."

Donna clears her throat and I can tell her voice is a little… not right.  "I think you guys are getting a little ahead of Josh and me…"  I feel her hand begin to slip off my shoulder and then I realize that I haven't moved since Donna came over to the table. She's obviously been able to feel how tense I am. It dawns on me what it must look like to her.  I must seem absolutely terrified at the prospect of having a family with her.  And while part of me is, I glance down at the table and realize that these four ginger people really don't scare me.  Maybe at one point they really would have, but not so much anymore.  Immediately, I reach up and grab Donna's hand, keeping it on my shoulder.   

"Yeah, I'm afraid there won't be any ginger cousins." I glance behind me to catch Donna's eye. "At least not for a year or two." 

"Really?"  She whispers as I see a watery glint in her eye.  But I hear a little squeal and I remember we have an audience, so all I'm able to do is squeeze her hand.  I shouldn't be surprised when I look around and realize that the squeal came from my mother.   Marjorie is clinging to her arm and they both look like they are about to cry as well.  Oh boy, I hadn't thought about how happy the prospect of ginger grandchildren would make my mother… or Donna's.  Good thing I meant what I said.  And good thing for Grandma Moss, who breaks up the moment by announcing that the soup, is ready.

***

"Does this look like it would be appropriate for a Christmas Eve celebration?" She turns from the closet and holds up a frilly-type shirt on a hanger.

Is she serious?  Asking me, the son she's known for over forty years, for wardrobe advice… I thought she knew me.  With a shrug, I reply, "I have no earthly idea."

"Joshua, you are being no help at all.  You've certainly been to many more Christmas parties than I have.  And then there's the church thing." 

"We're only going into the church for the Christmas pageant, to see Donna's brother's kids as sheep… or camels or something.  Donna assures me we're coming home before they start the chanting or other major rites of Christianity."

"They chant?"  My mom looks at me humorously.

Shrugging again, I reply, "I really don't know, but I wouldn't put it past them."

"So…"  I can actually hear my mother insert a casual tone into her voice. "…about these ginger grandchildren…"

"Nice try."  I chuckle at my mom and shake my head slightly.  I'm not going to discuss the ginger grandchildren, at least not until Donna and I have talked.  So instead, I change the subject. "I'm really happy you're here."   My mom smiles broadly, as I continue slowly, "I was…"

"Dreading this?" My mom supplies helpfully as I sit on the bed in the guest room she's occupying.

"Yes… no.  Well, not dreading it precisely…  No, yeah, I was dreading it.  I wanted to come…"  My mom gives me a skeptical look.  "I did, I wanted to be with Donna, but I wasn't sure what they were going to think of me."

"Have your fears been put to rest?" 

I smile sheepishly.  "Mostly.  They're very nice people." 

"Yes, they are.  But did you really expect the people who produced Donna to be anything but nice?" 

"I guess when you put it that way…" I start to shake my head, then I stop and look up at her. "Yes, I really thought they were going to hate me."  She smiles and I ask earnestly, "How are you doing?  Are you comfortable?  Is it weird for you, being here?"

"I'm thrilled to be here."  Her voice is filled with excitement and her eyes twinkle.  She obviously means it. I feel a pang of guilt zing through me, because I know that I don't visit, or call… or write enough.  I resolve to pay more attention to her from now on, a New Year's resolution of sorts.  Of course, I've made this particular resolution before, after Dad died, for one.  But now I know I'll keep it, because Donna will make me. I smile at the thought and turn my attention back to Mom, who's still talking.  Oops, I'll start paying more attention, next conversation.  "…and I'd spoken to Marjorie at least a couple dozen times over the last few weeks, so we were pretty well acquainted by the time I got here yesterday."

"You had?  What on earth did you have to talk about?"

I see the beginnings of an actual smirk forming on my mother's lips.  It's a tad unsettling. One shouldn't have to witness one's mother smirk.  "Oh, not much. The weather.  We certainly didn't spend hours comparing notes, trying to figure out when our children became an item."

I feel a wordless "O" form on my lips.  I clear my throat and try to sound nonchalant.  "What did you come up with?"

"We narrowed it down to sometime between four years ago and this Thanksgiving."

"Is that right…"  I laugh out loud, but don't give anything away.  "Well, it was really nice of her to invite you."

"Yes, it was."

"So, can you believe that Christmas tree?"

"It's quite the spectacle.  I'm not sure I've ever seen one that large in someone's home.  But this is definitely a home."

"It is."  I feel my stomach drop to my knees as I realize what I'm leading up to saying.  I exhale slowly and then meet her eye.  "Do you remember the year… the year before Joanie died and we had that tree during the holidays?"  Her brow furrows, and then a look of remembrance flits across her face and she nods slightly.  "And the paper snowflakes that Joanie and I made."

"Oh… I had almost forgotten about that.  Maybe blocked it out on purpose."  She puts her hand over her chest for a second and then moves towards the bed. Taking a seat next to me, she grips my hand and I squeeze back.

"When I was helping Donna pick out a Christmas tree…"  I take a deep breath before continuing, "I told her that story.  And then later she had us make paper snowflakes for her tree… in Joanie's memory."

She just nods quickly and I see her eyelashes flutter.  We sit in silence for several moments before I say, "She's really wonderful, Mom."

"Oh, I know that, Josh."

"I just want to make sure."  I clear my throat as I continue uncertainly.  "When Donna and I were celebrating Chanukah-- all her doing by the way-- she seemed very worried that you weren't going to accept her.  And she said it was because she messed up the latkes, but I'm pretty sure it was really that she was worried because she's not Jewish.  I told her she was being ridiculous."  I raise my gaze to meet hers.  "Was she being ridiculous?"

"Oh, honey…"  She shakes her head slightly and turns on the bed so she's fully facing me. "I'm too old and I've lost too many people…"  She trails off and is silent for a minute.  I hear her take a deep breath before she asks, "Is this the real thing?"

I turn to meet her eye so that she can know my honesty.  "Yes."

"Then I wouldn't care if she were Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Buddhist, Martian or even a he." 

The last one makes me snort defensively.

"Now, the fact that I already adore her is obviously a plus…"  We both smile at that, before she continues earnestly, "The only thing I want for you, ever wanted for you, is for you to know love.  To know a love like your father and I had."  Her eyes are glassy and I feel a lump form in my own throat. 

I bite my lip and then smile with relief.  "That's what I thought, but we never talked about it… so I wanted us to.  Talk about it, I mean.  I never thought you wouldn't accept her, but I didn't know if the religion thing bothered you at all."

"It doesn't.  And I'm glad you asked… because you can always talk to me.  And because I have something for you."

I watch her get up and rummage through her suitcase for a minute.  "This isn't to put any added pressure on you.  But I want you to have it… for when the time comes.  If you want it."

She hands me a small velvet-covered box and I feel my heart constrict to what must be the size of a peanut in my chest.  I open the box slowly and find myself face to face with a rather large loose diamond.

"My mother's.  As you know, there wasn't much from your father's side.  But this is my mother's diamond. She brought it from Russia; it was in a necklace for many years. But I think… if you want, it would make a lovely engagement ring… someday," she adds quickly. "It would obviously need to be put in a setting, but I've had a jeweler look at it, and it can easily be done." 

"Oh. Wow," I manage to utter, because I'm absolutely staggered by this. "I guess you really don't have a problem with Donna not being Jewish."  My voice is pretty much a husky whisper at this point.

She laughs heartily. "Now, there really is no pressure for you to use this diamond in an engagement ring.  You could put it back in a necklace if you wanted.  But I want you to have the option if you'd like."  I nod and swallow.  Hard.

Suddenly, a thought hits me. "So when you and Marjorie were speculating on how long Donna and I'd already been together…"

"Yes?"

"You had money on years, didn't you?"

She laughs again and then pats me on the shoulder.  "Maybe."

I lean over and wrap my arm around her shoulder, "Thanks.  I appreciate you giving me this.  It's very special."

"You're welcome.  Now you have to shoo, so I can get dressed for tonight."

"Okay."  I look down at the diamond again before snapping the box shut and standing.

"And Josh…"  When I reach the door, I turn back and shoot her an expectant look. "…as far as the ginger grandchildren…"

"Yeah?"  I ask with a barely suppressed smile.

"Just so you know.  I'm ready to be a ginger grandmother anytime you're ready."

"I'll keep that in mind."

***

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"For what, honey?"  My mom glances back at me as she putters around the kitchen, putting it back together after the cookie decorating and my grandmother's world-famous-beer-cheese-soup-making expedition.

"For telling everyone else I was bringing Josh home for Christmas before I told you."

She stops her puttering and leans back against the sink, facing me.  "Ahh, for that." 

I don't meet her eye as I pretend to wipe at a non-existent spot on the kitchen table.  "I guess I was hoping you'd find out from someone else and I wouldn't have to tell you." 

"No kidding." I glance up, and her knowing smile and raised eyebrow tell me that I'm much more transparent than I thought.

"Well, I'm sorry.  Because I shouldn't have done that.  I'm old enough not to have done that.  I don't know what came over me.  It's just that this is really important to me and I just couldn't handle the thought of…."

She waits several beats before prompting gently, "Of?"

"Of a negative reaction… of your disapproval."  Once I actually speak the words, I feel the anxious pit that's been swirling in my stomach begin to lessen.

"Why did you think we'd have a negative reaction?"

Sighing, I nervously twist the sponge that's in my hand.  "I don't know. I guess I was preemptively defensive. But I've realized it's my own hang-up.  Because Josh was my boss and I know that doesn't look good.  Because I know I've vented about him to you.  And probably not painted him in the best light at times."

I can see my mom biting back a smile.  "Yes, you've certainly complained about him.  But I don't know if you realize how much you've also talked him up over the years.  I wasn't sure whether to expect a man or a superhero capable of fixing any problem in a single political maneuver."  This makes me blush.  She steps towards me and starts fingering a lock of my hair and straightening it over my shoulder.  "And Donna, if you don't think we know you well enough to realize that if you got involved with your boss, it wouldn't be some tawdry affair, but the real thing… then you severely underestimated us."

Something tickles the back of my throat and I feel tears sting the corner of my eyes.  Throwing my arms around her neck, I murmur,   "Thanks so much for saying that.  I'm sorry I underestimated you." As I cling to her tightly, I feel the lump in my throat grow larger and my eyes begin to water.  "And thank you so much for inviting Judith."  Yup, now there are tears actually trickling down my cheek.  I sniff loudly as my voice catches. "It's incredible that you would do that. I know it means the world to Josh… to both of us.  It's such an amazing gesture of acceptance."

"It was our pleasure.  Truly.  I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying having Judith here."  She pats me on the back and pulls away.  "And she's going to make her special green bean casserole for dinner tomorrow." She starts puttering around the kitchen again.

My lip quirks. "Great.  Josh will love that."

She stops, takes a deep breath, and looks back to me for several seconds before speaking seriously.  "I want you to know, there's no question of acceptance.  If this is who you've chosen, the path you've chosen, then your father and I support you unconditionally.  We just want to be a part of your life."  Now I can see my own tears echoed in my mother's eyes. "We've had an all-too-real lesson about what happens when we don't see eye to eye with the person in our child's life.  Just… please don't shut us out."

Biting my lip, I feel my heart twist for my mother.  I had no idea she felt like that.  I promise, "I would never do that."

"I know you don't think you would.  But we don't see much of you as it is…"

"I know. And I'm sorry about that, too.  It's one of the trade-offs of working where I work.  But I'm determined with this new job, to actually take my vacation time.  Besides, I'm pretty sure my new boss won't be as demanding as my old one."

She nods quickly with a smile.  "I hope so.  And it's another reason I invited Judith.  I know how we felt when you were unable to come home for Thanksgiving and you mentioned that Josh had to cancel on his mother as well.  But mostly I wanted Josh to be comfortable here, so that he wouldn't be afraid to come back.  And bring your kids." 

The thought of that makes me smile, but I know I've got to nip this in the bud before it gets even more out of control.  "Mom, slow down, I know what Josh said earlier.  But we are just in the very beginning stages of our relationship."

"Really?"  She frowns thoughtfully.

"Yeah.  Why?"

"Mmm… I sort of assumed that you've been together for quite some time and are just now telling us so that we wouldn't be shocked when you announce your engagement." Her voice is matter-of-fact, so I, of course, promptly spit out the soda I was sipping.  Mom casually hands me a kitchen rag to clean up the mess. 

"No!"  I manage to sputter after choking.  "We've only been together since Thanksgiving!  A month ago."  My voice is steadily rising in timber as well as volume. "And I refused to sleep with my boss, and he was my boss up until yesterday afternoon… so we only just… we aren't even nearly ready for…"  I trail off, shaking my head, realizing what I'm saying.

My mom's eyes are wide and then I see her lips quirk upwards.  "Oh, the dear boy, no wonder his eyes are so bloodshot."

***

"Stop!"   I'm holding a napkin in front of his mouth like he's a four-year old that just ate rubbish off the floor.

He mumbles, "What?" through his full mouth.

"What's going on?" My mom calls curiously from the kitchen.

"He's eating Aunt Barbara's fruitcake," I yell back in explanation.  Then motion my hand in front of his mouth.  "Spit it out."

"Josh!  You really don't want to do that," my mother exclaims, and I hear a pan clatter to the floor as I'm sure she's making haste to the living room.

Josh eyes the hand I'm holding out in front of him warily.  Reluctantly, he opens his mouth, and I raise the napkin so I can dispose of the half-eaten fruitcake.  You might think that's gross, but after years of picking up after this man, I'm just not that squeamish.

"Now drink."  With my sans-bread hand, I pick up my Diet Coke and hand it to him, then quickly head to the kitchen to dispose of the napkin.

"I'm sorry, was I not allowed to eat that?  Were you saving that for later or something?"  Josh asks after he takes a swig of the soda.

"No, dear," my mom replies quickly as I return from washing my hand.  The wide-eyed look of horror on Josh face is priceless. "We just don't want you to eat it because it's absolutely horrendous."

"Tasted okay to me."  Josh's eyes are still wide.

"Really?"  I ask incredulously as I wrap my arms around him from the side. "Trust me, had you taken a bite of one of the brandied cherries, you would not be saying that."

"Why are you serving it then?  On a…"  Josh glances down to the side table. "…festive ceramic snowman plate?"

"Because Barbara and Ted are coming back for dinner after the pageant.  Wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.  But I also don’t want you to end up paying for it all night.  Trust me."

"Trust us…"  My dad, my sister, and her husband Kevin all reply in unison from the living room.

Josh just shrugs. "I have a lot to learn about your family customs.  Is there any other food that you'll be serving, that I shouldn't actually eat?" 

"No."  I rub his bicep through his sweater soothingly… and then rethink, "Actually, you better ask before eating anything.  Just to be safe."

"Okay."  He nods agreeably.  "Because that's not at all weird."

"You can have one of the gingerbread cookies."

"Mmm… I'm not sure how I feel about eating a likeness of myself… or of you."

"There are plenty of just regular decorated ones. Here, eat the nurse."

"The nurse?"  He sounds confused.

"This one…"  I hand him the gingerbread cookie that's obviously decorated as a health-care professional, all in white.

"That's not a nurse, that's ginger Travolta!  See the gold necklace.  I made him for you."

"Oh…"  I squint at the cookie. "I thought that was a stethoscope.  Of course that's Travolta.  I love him, very disco.  We'll just save him for later.  Here's one that's wearing fashionable red culottes paired with a kicky green vest.  Eat him."

He's still staring at the cookie reluctantly, when I squeeze his arm.  "So you remember meeting Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ted when they visited the White House, don't you?"

"The cheese salesman?"  His eyebrows go up in question.

"That's Uncle Ted.”

"The Republicans."  Josh can't help it; like one of Pavlov's dogs, he scowls a bit and his voice contains a sneer as he says it.

"That would be my brother and his wife you're talking about," my dad adds from the couch on the other side of the room.  He stands and starts wandering towards us.

Josh's eyes go wide once again. He stutters, "S… s… sorry.  I didn't mean… that is… to say Republicans are great.  All that smaller government rhetoric… good stuff.  Sometimes, I wish I were a Republican…"

I can tell my dad is laughing, but trying to keep a straight face.  "Really.  It surprises me to hear you say that, after some of the things I've heard you say on television.  I watch the Sunday morning programs, you know."

"Do you?  Oh… you know, I say things... who knows what I mean…"  He stutters and waves his hands about.  "It's all talk… um… Taxes are bad?" 

Have I told you how cute I think it is when Josh's voice hits the rafters?  Well, I do.  Especially when it happens because he's scared of my dad.  Because, really, my dad’s not that scary.  He's about 6 feet tall, kind of slight, with mostly gray hair and very kind blue eyes… just like mine, if I do say so myself. 

"Oh… well, I'm sorry to hear that it's all talk, since I voted for Bartlet and I'd hate to think everything you spout off about is just lip service."

Josh's eyes go wide.  "Well, I… um… you see…"  He pauses and knits his brows together. "You're just totally screwing with me right now, aren't you, sir?"

My dad nods once.  "I am.  And feel free to say whatever you'd like to my brother.  I'd love it if you could talk some sense into him. But you're going to have to have better verbal skills than what you just displayed here, if you're going to make any headway."  Josh's eyes are just about bugging out of his head as my dad continues.  "I tell you, I've sat down with Ted more than once to go through his taxes and prove he's really not paying any more under Bartlet than he was under Lassiter, but he will not believe me.  Even when the numbers bear me out."

"Oh… so you really are a Democrat."

"Of course, you didn't think we were Republicans, did you?"  I love the look of disgust on my dad's face.

"I didn't know… I, um… Donna… and you know… and I'm sure…"

"Donna's a Democrat," my dad states with conviction.  "The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Well, at least with Donna it didn't."

"Well, she's *mostly* a Democrat…" Josh interjects.  I whap him hard for that one.

"Did you think she was rebelling against the family… going to work for you?"

"I didn't think… I don't know…"  Josh is totally stuttering and looking a little red in the face.  I'm afraid he's going to choke on the red-culotted, green-vested gingerbread man that he just took a bite of. 

 

"You do know that Dane County leans about 70% to the left, don't you?  Did you think we went against the grain in this liberal enclave of Madison?"

Josh takes a deep breath and then looks my dad in the eye.  "You're messing with me again, aren't you, Mr. Moss?"

Dad claps Josh on the back.  "John.  And yes… let's get you something a little stronger than that soda.  You're going to need it to get through the Christmas pageant."

I stifle a giggle as Dad takes Josh to get a drink.

"So… your girls aren't in the Christmas pageant?"  I hear Judith asks my sister Nikki as I head further into the living room where they're sitting.

"Oh, no." Nikki shakes her head quickly. “Much to my brother and sister-in-law's consternation, we're not big churchgoers. And I'd much prefer my girls were here with family on Christmas Eve, rather than spending the evening standing around dressed as barnyard animals to entertain a bunch of… people we don't know.  They're doing two shows, you know, and then they have to stay for services."

"Nikki, its Christmas.  Please!"  My mother pleads.

"Mom, they aren't even here. And I didn't say anything negative. Mostly."

"Judith!"  Grandma pipes up.

"Yes, Sylvia?"  Judith quirks a lip, but looks at her seriously.

"I've decided.  You'll sit by me during the pageant." Grandma gives her a quizzical look.  "You're Jewish, right?"

"I am."

"Excellent.  I don't buy that whole Immaculate Conception crap, either.  We can heckle the proceedings from the back."

"Oh, my!  Lighting is going to strike you where you sit, Sylvia!" My mom looks both horrified and mortified at the same time.  "You don't mean that."  She looks at Judith.  "She doesn't mean that."

"Of course I don't."  She looks at my mom patronizingly, then whispers to Judith, "See, I think Mary must have been getting some action on the…"

"John! Do something about your mother.  If Amber or your son hears her talk like that, they'll never let our grandsons come over here… ever again!"

"Oh, pish.  I'm just kidding!"  I see Grandma lean over to Judith and whisper, "I'm really not.  But perhaps we shouldn't heckle out loud. Just quietly, to ourselves."

Judith is pressing her lips together, clearly to keep from laughing.  "That sounds like a plan to me, Sylvia.  Or we could heckle silently and then compare notes at the end, once we leave the building." 

"That could work… we won't rouse as much suspicion as non-believers that way."  Grandma nods her head carefully.

"Mother…"  My dad sidles up next to me and looks down at Grandma.  "Please stop trying to create a sensation."  He addresses Judith apologetically, shaking his head.  "She likes to be thought of as outrageous.  Pay no mind."

"We like outrageous, don't we, Grandma?"  Nikki's husband, Kevin, asks with a conspiratorial wink and Grandma practically swoons.  Besides enjoying being outrageous, Grandma also likes younger men. 

I feel Josh nudge me from behind, so I turn around.  "Having a good time?"  I ask quietly.

"Yeah."  He holds up a bottle in one hand and his red-culotted, green-vested cookie in the other.  "Your dad got me a beer to make up for giving me a hard time and I have my cookie."

I bite my lip. "Well, don't drink more than one until we get back, remember you're on a mostly empty stomach and no sleep.  You know what can happen with your-"

"Don't say it."

"Okay.  But as long as you remember you have a-" 

This time he leans over and kisses me quickly to shut me up.  Which makes me smile, because he's obviously feeling pretty comfortable if he just kissed me in front of a half-dozen of my relatives.

"Alright, everyone into the two cars," my mom announces.  "Let's get to this pageant so we can get back and eat."

***

"If I fall asleep, wake me," she whispers in my ear.  The way her warm breath feels on my cheek, and the way she's so close that I can almost—almost-- feel her lips move on my skin, is quite enjoyable.  It makes me want to feel her lips on mine, on me, anywhere really.  If I turned towards her, she's so close I wouldn't even have to move and we would be…

"…Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord..."

Except… yeah, we're in a church.  Right. So instead of ravishing her, I hiss, "If you fall asleep?  I'm the one you kept up last night.  And we're watching a show about Jesus.  If anyone gets to sleep, it's me."

"How did *I* keep *you* up last night?"  She's so cute when she's indignant.

"The moaning."

"And who exactly was making me moan?"

"Your hot, young, boytoy lover."

"Hot?  Young?  Boytoy?"  Hmm, I'm not enjoying the humorous note I'm hearing in her whisper and… yeah… that was a snort.  She just snorted at me. "I think ‘lover’ is the only term that is remotely accur-"

"Watching 10-year-olds as the three wise men and their…" I glance down at the program Donna is holding open, "... animals, attendants and dancing pages…"  I shake my head slightly-- what in the heck are dancing pages?-- before continuing. "…in Madison, Wisconsin on Christmas Eve where we are spending four… count them… one, two, three, four days with your family."  I am so golden.  Coming here was actually an excellent idea.  She owes me.  And I predict she's going to start paying by admitting I'm her boytoy.

Her eyes go wide and then a sly smile graces her lips, before she leans in to whisper in my ear again.  I still really enjoy the way it feels when she does that, by the way.  "You are so very young and so very hot… and without a doubt, my boytoy."  Told you. I bet that I've got about two months to milk the fact that I made this trip.

Nikki picks that moment to lean forward from behind us and whisper, "Maybe you and your young, hot, boytoy lover want to get a room or something? Or have you forgotten you're in a church watching your nephews help bring to life the birth of Jesus Christ our Savior?"

I swallow hard.  Busted. I can tell Donna is trying not to laugh.  I'm glad she thinks it's funny that we've exposed ourselves thusly to her family.  We stand silently—did I mention we're standing?  Well, we are.  In the back of the church.  It's so packed and we got here kind of late, so Donna's parents, grandmother and nieces, as well as my mother, are all seated.  While Donna, Nikki, her husband Kevin and I all stand in the back.  We stand silently for several minutes before I once again turn restlessly to Donna.  "This is quite the production."

"Yes."  She nods.

"I mean there's theatrical lighting."

"Uh huh."

"But why are all those short people dressed as birds?"

"That's the children's choir."

"That doesn't explain the birds."

"They're not birds, they're angels.  See the glittering wings and tinsel halos."  She points, quoting from the program again.

"Hmm… fascinating."

"Just wait till the end."  She motions to the unlit candle they handed me when we entered.

"What happens then?  You told me there wouldn't be chanting.  Is there going to be chanting?"

"No chanting, singing.  The mini-bird people will lead us in song at the end.  And we light the candles."

"That still sounds ritualistic."

"You should be glad we're at the 5pm pageant and not the 7pm.  From what I understand, that one is even longer and segues into… other stuff…"  I hear another small snort in her whisper.  What's with her snorting tonight?  It must be a mixture of exhaustion and her intense attraction to… me. "Besides you don't have to sing, just hold the candle.  You can't carry a tune anyway."

"I can carry a tune."  I really, truly can't, but pride, you know?

"Can you sing O Holy Night?"

"Can anybody?"

"Good point."

"Where are your nephews again?"

"See those sheep." She discreetly points to the front.

"On the right?"

"No, to the left of the manger."

"The one itching himself?"

"Yeah.  That's Greg… or Craig…" She scans the production. "Nope I see Craig, the itcher is Greg."

"Hmm… cute."

"Yes, they are."  Her voice has a sort of soft, dreamy quality and I can tell she's thinking about kids of her own, which, if I play my cards right, would be our own.  Suddenly, it's all-important to me that I play my cards right.  We're going to have to talk about that… soon.  Is it normal to have that conversation a month into dating someone?  Is it normal to have that conversation a month into dating someone while standing in the back of a church watching a Christmas pageant?

"Donna-"

"Do you two stop talking… ever?"  We look at each other, before Donna turns back to where Nikki has stuck her face in between us once again.

"No," Donna hisses.

"I see." 

Donna grimaces.  "Are we bothering you?"

"No, actually."  I can see Nikki smiling out of the corner of my eye.  "But good thing we're in the back." 

Perhaps now is not the time to discuss our future. 

We stand and watch the rest of the pageant in relative silence. And by ‘relative silence’ I mean we only comment on the proceedings four or five more times—one time might have been when the dancing pages, well... danced onto the scene. See, I voiced my doubt that there were actual pages that danced to Baroque music around the Christ child when he was born, but Donna told me that biblical accuracy is not what they're going for here, so I agreed to suspend disbelief.  

Finally, the lights go completely dark.   Glancing to my right, I see the glint of flames being passed from one candle to the next down the rows of people throughout the church.  Once my candle is lit, I turn to Donna and light hers; once she passes the flame down, she turns back to me and our eyes meet and I feel something tug deep in my chest.  Even with only the glow from the candle to illuminate her, she is absolutely incandescent and I'm mesmerized.

The children's voices fill the hall as the choir begins O Holy Night.  Transferring my candle to the other hand, I reach down and lace my fingers with her free hand.  My thumb caresses hers and when I look up again, the church is aglow from all the candles.    It actually is quite a sight as the light from the flames dance through the cathedral and combine with the melodic voices that are gathering strength in a stirring rendition of the song.  I feel her squeeze my hand.  Glancing to her, I squeeze back and then lean over and press my lips to her temple.  I never thought I'd be happy to be standing in a church on Christmas Eve, but I guess the point is that I'm happy to be standing anywhere, as long as I'm standing next to Donna.

After another minute, I whisper in her ear, "Those mini-bird people really can sing like angels."

"Yeah." She nods again. This time I wrap my arm around her waist and she rests her head on my shoulder as we watch the end of the program.

***

After the show… or pageant… I finally meet Donna's brother and his family. Scott Moss is extremely nice and affable, but frankly, between you and me, kind of wimpy-looking.  He just seems very docile.  Blonde, pale, glasses.  He looks every inch the accountant that I'm told he is.  His wife, by contrast, is a very imposing figure.   Blonde bob, black velvety-looking headband thingy—Nikki commented when we first got here this evening that it looks like it should be worn by a 13 year-old-girl practicing the cello and never by a grown woman. I realize I'm not one to judge women's fashion, but I admit the comment made me laugh.

When I meet her, she's got a perma-smile and shakes my hand firmly and coos over my mother.  But it all seems a little forced and a little fake; you don't get where I am in politics without being able to read people, and it doesn't take more than five seconds to figure out who wears the pants in that family.  Amber is definitely the dominant figure in the marriage. 

Her sons come over to meet us as well.  Both blonde and obedient-looking, they fidget in their costumes, but don't say much.  Apparently, they have about a half-hour between shows.

As Scott catches up with Donna and Amber quizzes my mother about Florida-- apparently her parents are considering moving-- I lean down to talk to Greg… or is it Craig?  I'm not sure which is which, they look enough alike to be twins.

"You were excellent up there, have you been a sheep before?"

He tugs at the collar of his costume.  "I was a sheep last year."

"Do you like it?"

"It's itchy… and hot." 

I see him fiddling with something in his hand. "Whatcha got?"

"Nothin!"  He squeaks nervously.

"Oh… okay."  Obviously, the kid has some issues.  I finally figure out I'm talking to the younger one, Craig.  Greg is over playing with Shana as Marjorie tries to take a picture of him in his costume. 

"Can you keep a secret?"  He asks, looking up at me with innocent, blue eyes. 

I dart my gaze around surreptitiously before answering, "Sure."

He opens his hands and reveals a Zip-loc bag with one of the mini-gingerbread people cookies.  "Grandma gave it to me.  Don't tell Mom."

I nod and decide I’m with Nikki. If a kid feels like he has to hide the fact that his grandma gave him a gingerbread cookie on Christmas Eve, that's overkill. I don't want my kid to ever feel guilty about getting a cookie from his grandmother.  Suddenly, it strikes me how natural a thought that was to me.  A thought about how I want to raise my kids, my kids with Donna, just popped into my head and it didn't make me nervous or freak me out.  I can tell there's a huge smile spreading across my face.  I tussle Craig's hair and reassure, "It'll be our secret." 

***

"This is a lot of Chinese food," I hear Josh remark from the back of the vehicle.

"Yes, it is," I answer from the passenger seat.

"Why so much?" Everyone else headed back to the house to get it ready for guests while Nikki, Kevin, Josh and I stopped at Mr. Ping’s to pick up the food.  Nikki's driving and we stuffed the guys in the backseat with all the food.

My mom stopped trying to cook two meals in a row a long time ago and started having Mr. Ping cater Christmas Eve. But, I'll have you know, she stills serves a killer dessert bar.  "Because there are a lot of people to feed."

"And we're eating Chinese?"

"Yes."

"Wow.  It's like every other Christmas Eve of my life."

Nikki glances into the review mirror and addresses Josh. "Every year you've watched a Christmas pageant?"

"No, every year I've eaten Chinese food."  I can hear the smile in his voice. "My mom and I will feel right at home.

I turn and smile brightly at him. "That's what we were going for."

***

"Why did you drink it?" I ask as he makes about five horribly sour, yet different, faces in a row.

"This is the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted." He manages to utter between grimaces.

"I know. So why would you drink it?" I ask again as I take the glass away from him and hand him my champagne punch.  It's another Moss family Christmas Eve tradition and should most definitely help rid him of the taste.

"Your grandmother handed it to me!"  He defends hotly.

I shake my head at him with mock disapproval. "What did I say about asking to make sure it's safe before consuming anything?"

"You said to make sure it's safe before I eat anything."

"So why didn't you ask?"

"Because this is drink, not food. Although barely.  What consistency does liquid need to achieve before it becomes food?"  He contorts his face yet again in disgust before taking another sip of my champagne punch.  "Why do you people serve so many inedible things?"

"Tradition. Christmas is about tradition.  The good, the bad… and the inedible."

"Well, your grandmother is sure downing it."

"That's because she thinks there's alcohol in it," I confide in a conspiratorial whisper.

"There's not?"

"Nope."

"Then why would anyone ever drink it!? It's thick and creamy."  He makes a face again, obviously utilizing his sense memory.

"Josh, what did you expect from something that's called *egg*nog? And besides, it's the last thing in the world you should be drinking; we still need to be careful about your cholesterol." 

He nods resignedly, taking yet another sip of the punch.  Somehow I don't think giving up eggnog is going to be quite as traumatic for him as accepting tuna fish Tuesdays was.  "So who are all of these people?"

"I introduced all of them to you not twenty minutes ago."

"Yeah, but it happened so fast."

"Okay."   I find it interesting that the man that can name every U.S. Congressperson can't keep twenty people straight, but I cut him some slack since he did just go to a show about Jesus and he hasn't slept in over 36 hours. "Barbara and Ted."  I discreetly point to the corner, where they are in deep conversation with my parents’ next-door neighbor.

"Too easy, Republicans. Got it. Next."

I smirk at him as I continue to point out and identify all of the guests, most of them family. He nods with concentration.  He really is cute when he's trying so hard to please me and memorize my relatives’ names.  "There's my cousin Carrie. You remember the newspapers… she's the ballet teacher from Chicago…"

"Carrie… right, she's hot.  Let's go meet her again."  He starts across the room and tugs on my hand.

But I stand rooted to the spot.  He wasn't concentrating on learning my relatives’ names!  He was ogling my cousin Carrie!  He's much less cute when he's ogling my cousin Carrie. When he realizes I'm not following, he turns back, "Come on, I want to find out if she's single."

"What?!"  I might have said that a little loud, because my Uncle Llangton and Great Aunt Pidge just looked over at us.  I wave at them, before yanking Josh back towards me.

"Huh?"  He furrows his brow at me.  "What's wrong?"

"What did you just say?"

"I said I want to find out if she's single."  He says it slowly, like I'm hard of understanding.

"Why would you want to find out if she's single?! And you said she's hot!  What are you, bored already and looking for the next thing?"  Admittedly, my voice is rather indignant.

He's looking at me oddly and then his mouth curls into what I instantly recognize as his most self-satisfied smirk. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous, that's ridiculous!"  But I ruin the effect of my words by huffing and crossing my arms across my chest.

"You are."  He's still got that stupid grin on his face.

"Well, you said she was hot."

"Yes.  I did.  Of course she is… she looks like you."  I resist the urge to smile. It's hard, but I just have to remind myself that he was about to go hit on my cousin and my frown returns.

"And you said you wanted to find out if she's single!"

"Uh-huh… I did," he agrees without showing the slightest bit of remorse.  I hope this isn't the part where I find out my boyfriend has some sick personal proclivities about kissing cousins or something.

"So?!"  I demand, not believing that's all the response he's going to give me.

Instead of answering, he kisses me. Right on the mouth and once again in the same room with at least a dozen people I'm related to. At least we're in the corner.  When he pulls back, his smirk is still there. "You are so cute when you're jealous, but it's not like you. I think the exhaustion is catching up with you.  We should go to bed soon."  He wags his brow at me.

I uncrossed my arms when he was kissing me, but I'm still a bit suspicious, so I rest my hands on my hips defiantly. "Why do you want to find out if she's single?"

"I thought she might be nice for Sam."

"Sam's in California!"

"Sam goes to Chicago at least once a month on business," he shoots back, his grin never wavering. 

It's becoming apparent that I perhaps jumped the gun on the jealousy. Since he's blaming it on the exhaustion, that sounds like as good an excuse as any.  I just stand there as the tension drains out of me.  "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."  He's still grinning.  "Seriously, we should put you to bed."

"We can't go to bed at least until after presents."

Josh glances with horror to the tree with the mountains of presents at its base.  "All of those have to be opened before we can go to bed?"  The look he gives me is one of sheer desperation.

Now it's my turn to giggle.  "Nope, tonight everyone opens one present."

"Oh…" He relaxes. "One present. Okay.  Then can we go to bed?"

"Yeah…" I nod, suddenly thinking that going to bed is the best idea I've heard in quite some time.  I grab his hand and start pulling him across the room. "But first let's go talk up Sam to my cousin Carrie."

***

"They're… um, great."  He's trying to sound excited, but I can tell he doesn’t know what to make of them.

"Do you know what they are?"

"Uh… sure…” The majority of extended family has taken off and now we're opening presents.  I've already opened my one present, a sweater from Shana and Kelly.  It has a rather fat, jolly Santa on it and I've already promised to wear it tomorrow.  I love it.  However, I don't love the evil glint in their mother's eye. Apparently, she thinks she's pulled one over on me, having her children give me an admittedly slightly garish festive sweater that I have no choice but to wear because the girls picked it out.  I'll show her, by wearing it with pride.  

Now, it's Josh's turn, and I made sure he opened this particular present because he'll need them for tomorrow. As he pulls the last of the paper off and pries open the box, a look of confusion passes across his face.  He studies it a moment and then pulls the contents out of the box… he still looks dumsquizzled. He's adorable when he's dumsquizzled.

"See." I point to the black flannel that's covered in the beloved green frog. "It's Kermit."

Pulling the fabric away from its tissue paper cradle, he shakes the garment so that it opens up… a look of dawning passes across his face. He looks at me. "Kermit pajamas?"

"Yup." I nod, just a tad smugly.

"You gave me Kermit pajamas?" 

"I did."

"You gave me the same present you bought your nieces?"

"Yes-" But I'm interrupted by a bout of squeals from Shana and Kelly… and maybe from my mother as well.  Who knew the idea of Josh in Kermit pajamas would drive anyone wild? Besides me, of course.  I meet his eye and reply, "…but much larger and Kermit instead of Elmo and Barbie." 

"Why did you get me Kermit flannel pajamas?"

"For you to sleep in," I say matter-of-factly. He raises an eyebrow at me.  I see what he's thinking, that he doesn't think that he has much need for pajamas anymore. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's wrong.

"But I'm more of a birthday suit kind of guy," he whispers with a salacious smile.  Yup… he thinks there is no need for pajamas. Awfully cocky if you ask me and frankly, he's darn lucky that the chatter and continued squeal of the girls as Kelly tries on Josh's pajama tops makes it impossible for anyone but me to hear him.  Our mothers may be rooting for grandchildren, but they don't need to know the details.

"Really?  Okay then, you can attend the Moss Family Pajama Pancake Christmas Breakfast in your birthday suit if you want."

"Oh…"

His mouth is still frozen in an O when I hear Grandma pipe up, "I don't know how things are done in Washington D.C. but young kids like you shouldn't be sleeping in flannel pajamas. You should sleep as God intended, unfettered… why, when Grandpa and I were your age-"

"Those are as cute as a button, Donna, what store on Earth carries those?" My mom chimes in loudly, in order to cut off Grandma's train of thought.

I smile slyly before turning to her and replying, "No store."

"You didn't buy them?"

"Nope.  I commissioned them.  In fact, I commissioned all of them," I explain, referencing the semi-matching but smaller Barbie and Elmo PJs I gave Shana and Kelly.

"Commissioned?"  Josh knits his brows together.

"Suzie from Political Affairs' mom is a seamstress."

"You had them made?" My mom asks, I think proudly.

"I did.  All of them."  I turn back to Josh to emphasize, "Right after Thanksgiving."  His eyes go wide.  I turn back to where our mothers are on the couch. "He says I remind him of Kermit the Frog because of my skinny arms and skinny legs, so I thought I'd get him something so that he can tell us apa-"

I'm unable to finish my thought.  Because he's tackled me.  And now he's tickling me. I'm flat on my back and he's sitting across my midriff and I can't breathe because I'm giggling so hard and now Shana and Kelly have jumped on top of him and everyone is laughing and talking and I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.

***

"Do you really expect me to wear these to bed?"  I ask, holding up the Kermit pajamas to my chest.

Uh oh, she's frowning and now, yup, it's a full pout.  "You hate them."

"No, I don't. I love them.  I just… uh… thought that pajamas would be unnecessary tonight."  I raise my brow suggestively at her.

She looks up at me from where's she's sitting on the end of the bed. "I don't ever remember being this tired."

"Is that you trying to tell me something?"

She smirks, "Yes.  It's me saying that I would love to, but I don't think I could possibly work up the energy.  So you can wear your new pajamas."

"Great!"  I paste a smile on my face. 

"You really hate them."

"I don't. I love them." I repeat it as if it's a mantra.

She hands me the bottoms.  "I think they're adorable.  If you wear the pajamas, they'll make you irresistible and I'll cuddle with you."

Smirking, I look over at her. "What am I, a woman?  Women are the ones that want to cuddle, not men.  That's a line I should be using on you."  Okay, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, because if I thought she was pouting before, I was mistaken.  The look she's giving me now… this look is a pout.  "I'm kidding.  I want to cuddle with you."  She just pouts harder.

Quickly, I pull on the Kermit bottoms.  They fit perfectly.  I must say, Suzie from Political Affairs' mother is really quite skilled. I sit down next to her on the end of the bed.  "Seriously, cuddle with me."  I raise my eyebrows at her once again and then scoot all the way back so I'm sitting on the bed with my back against the headboard.  I gesture for her to join me.

She looks at me for a second and then crawls in beside me, but not before tossing the Kermit tops at me.  "We're in my parents’ house, Josh.  You don't want to be indecent, do you?"

Reluctantly, I shrug into the flannel Kermit pajama tops. But I perk up when Donna grabs the collar of the Kermit pajamas and pulls me down towards her.  Pushing me onto my back and draping herself over me, she snuggles into my shoulder.  I have to admit, neither the Kermit pajamas nor the cuddling is unpleasant.

"This is a first," I whisper into her hair.

"What?"

"Us… going to bed… together like this."  I tug her even closer and she relaxes into my arms.

I feel her sigh against my neck.  It feels really good.  "Except for last night-"

"We didn't technically go to sleep last night… did we?"

"No…" I look down so that I can enjoy her cheeks flushing pink. I love making her blush. She looks up at me.  "I guess we didn't."

"So tonight is the first night that I officially get to go to sleep with you in my arms."  Her hand is resting on my chest, right over my heart.  I wind my hand under it and lace her fingers with mine.

"It that a big event?"  I hear her laugh softly.

"Yeah, it is to me."

She pushes herself up slightly so that she can meet my eye.  "You've changed your tune about cuddling?" 

Not really.  I was always going to be a fan of the cuddling… as long as it was Donna I got to cuddle with. "Apparently."

 "Hmm… you're cuddling and you're wearing your new Kermit Christmas jammies…"

"What are you getting at?"

"You're pretty whipped, aren't you?"  She asks smugly.

Before she knows what hit her, I drop her hand and lightly start to tickle her stomach in retaliation for the comment.  She squirms, and since she's lying partially on top of me, the squirming is having a… let's just say, ‘effect.’ I tease, "I'm not going to stop you until you say you're just as whipped as I am."

Breathlessly, between squeals, she utters triumphantly, "Ah-ha… you admit it.  You're whipped!"

This, of course, just makes me tickle her harder. Finally, she relents. "I'm whipped." I knew she was whipped, by the way.  It's just icing that I was able to tickle-torture it out of her.

"Better."  I smile broadly, as she settles back into my arms. After several long seconds I ask a question that's had me curious all day. "Are you surprised your parents are letting us share a room?"

"No."

"Why?"  Apparently I'm still surprised that I actually get to sleep with Donna under her parents' roof.  Although, it looks like tonight all we're going to be doing is sleeping.

"Because my parents aren't Ward and June Cleaver… and there's the fact that I'm over thirty."

"What?"  I sit up. "You never told me that… I'm afraid that changes everything. I'm afraid I like them young…"

"Too late."  She tugs me back down towards her.   Now we're facing one another, sharing a pillow, only a few inches separating us.  She takes a breath before looking me in the eye. "And because I've never brought anyone home for Christmas before."

"Never?"  I feel my forehead wrinkle. "Even Doctor-"

"Nope.  Being in med school he'd always be on shift or with his family or one year, he went skiing with his friends."

"So, I'm special."  I feel a dopey grin spreading across my face.

"In your own mind, yes."

I do my best to imitate her pout, which just makes her emit a sharp staccato laugh, but she relents and admits, "You're special."  I knew it.  It's ridiculous, I'm a grown man and I've only been dating her a month, but I feel a bit like I'm soaring when she says it.

"So…" 

"Yeah?"  Her eyes had closed briefly, but now she opens them back up.  "Am I special because your parents want some ginger grandchildren and they think if they put us in the same room…"

She looks at me a second and then bites her lip. "Josh…"

"Donna…" 

"Josh…"  She puts her hand on my cheek.  I really like it when she does that. "What you said this morning... I know you were backed into a corner when we were decorating cookies..."

"When *we* were decorating cookies?"  I ask with a laugh in my voice.

"When you and the girls were decorating cookies," she amends with a smile and then looks at me earnestly.  "Anyway, I know you were backed into a corner and I know we've only been dating a month.  So I want you to know that I don't hold you to what you said… even though…"

I twist my neck slightly and kiss her palm. "Even though what?"

She shakes her head quickly.  "It's too soon… it's too soon to talk about this… forget it."

"Even though, what?"  I prod again gently.

"Even though I really want kids… someday."  Her eyes flicker down and then come back and meet mine again.  "I'm just saying long-term, that's what I want.  A family."

"Oh…" I let my face fall.

"What?"  Her eyes go wide.  "You're freaked out…. I've freaked you out."

I smile and shake my head almost imperceptibly. "You're thinking long-term."  I snake my arm round her waist and pull her quickly on top of me as I roll over onto my back.  "And I'm thinking we should start right now."

I see the grin spread slowly across her face. "Be serious."

"I am.  I've never been more serious in my life."  Before she can protest, I press my lips to hers and shift us into a more comfortable position, without ever breaking the kiss.

After a few minutes, where I assure you Donna was a full participant in our making out, she pulls back, slightly out of breath. "Thankfully, I have enough level-headedness for both of us."  She may talk of a level head all she wants, but the way she's sunk into me and tangled her legs with mine, it's a dead giveaway. She totally wants me.

"Level heads are highly overrated." 

"Well… then… good thing that I'm on the-"

I kiss her once again to silence her. I love the way she tastes, I love the way she smells.  I'm so exhausted I can barely move, but I can't get enough of her.  Finally, we break for air. "Then we can practice.  I'm all for practice."

"You think we need practice?  Because I thought we did it pretty good last night."

"I think..." I hook my leg around hers and flip her on her back. "That you can never have enough practice."

"I thought you were tired?"

"That was you."  I smirk at her.  "And besides, I'm getting a second wind.  Or actually more of an eighth wind." It's taken a lot to get through this day.  Not in a bad way; just in a lot-of-activities-on-no-sleep way.

"We’re in my teenage bedroom and the whole house is crawling with relatives.  Your mom is right next door," she exclaims in a humorous whisper.

"My mom is still downstairs playing Trivial Pursuit, and we can be quiet."

"All evidence presented last night says we really can't."

You might be surprised to know that despite her meek opposition to my practice plan, she has her hands underneath the Kermit pajamas and is running them up and down my back.  But suddenly her hands stop.  "I'm all for practicing, but I’m not joking about wanting a family."

I look her directly in the eye.  "I'm not, either."

And the second the words leave my lips, hers are on mine.  It only takes another minute for her to unbutton the top and divest me fully of the Kermit pajamas when she stops again. "Wait!"

"What?"  I pant.  What do you want from me, my girlfriend is really hot and she's currently almost naked beneath me.  The situation tends to get my heart rate going. Thus the continual panting.

"It's 12:01."

"So?"

"It's Christmas."  She smiles and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Thank you for coming to spend Christmas with me."

I grin at her, my breathing finally back under control.  "There is no place on Earth I'd rather be."  This makes her smile; actually it makes me smile, too.

"Merry Christmas, Joshua."

"Merry Christmas, Donnatella."

She initiates the kissing this time and I'm totally lost, until I remember there's one more thing I want to say to her.  I tear my lips from hers. "Wait!"

"What now?"  She sighs as if she hasn't been the one constantly interrupting the kissing and the nakedness before this.

I look at her earnestly. "I just wanted you to know that I love my Kermit pajamas."

She grins and this time there are no more interruptions… or talking. At least not tonight.

The End.


End file.
